


feel me, see me, love me

by salakavala



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Established Relationship, Feels, Fluff, Guilt, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Endgame, No Infinity War, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Self-Esteem Issues, Sibling Incest, Tender Sex, brothers in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-30 21:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21146945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salakavala/pseuds/salakavala
Summary: As the life on the Asgardian refugee ship begins to fall into normalcy, Thor begins noticing something odd in Loki's behaviour.





	feel me, see me, love me

Thor only notices Loki's new little habit because Loki ends up having to give up his personal quarters on their refugee ship for medical use and move into Thor's.

The change is not a terrible hardship for either of them. On the contrary – now they can both withdraw into the same quarters every night and no one will bat an eye. But Loki has always enjoyed and needed his space more than Thor, so even with their new living arrangements, Thor tries to give it to him as well as he can.

That's why he doesn't pay much mind to it when Loki begins locking himself up in their bathroom for sometimes an hour or more. It must be Loki's way of taking his privacy, and though Thor mourns for their shared baths, which have become unfortunately rare, he tries to respect his brother's needs. Besides, Loki is irresistible when he eventually emerges in a cloud of steam, wrapped up in a fluffy bathrobe, cheeks rosy and hair a wavy mess. It's always impossible to see him like that and not cuddle him then and there – or attempt to, until Loki turns up his nose and pushes Thor away, banning all cuddles until Thor has washed, too.

But even with their shared quarters it’s difficult to pinpoint all the little things that seem a little off, in one way or another. Their entire lives have been uprooted, and there is still much left to come to terms with. Besides, Thor and Loki have been apart for a long time, and much has happened during those years; whenever Thor notices little new oddities in Loki’s behaviour, it’s always hard to determine whether something is wrong, or if there simply is yet another thing Thor has to re-learn about his brother.

One such thing occurs, when one evening Loki spills ink while he's looking over the reports on the ship's life support activity, and, grumbling, stomps to their bathroom to wash his stained hand. Thor is engrossed in engine reports, and only when he sets them aside and decides it's time for bed does he realise that Loki has been in the bathroom for quite a while.

He follows his brother, worried that he has taken ill – but no. When the bathroom door silently slides open, Thor discovers his brother by the sink, scrubbing his hands under the running water.

Relieved, Thor crosses his arms and leans against the doorway, raising his brows in amusement. “I'm pretty sure the ink doesn't run that deep, brother.”

Loki visibly startles, but gathers himself quickly and spares Thor a sour look; he hates being crept upon. Still, he turns off the water and dries his hands with a towel, pausing to frown at his now-pink skin. “I wouldn't be so sure. I think I can still see it.”

Thor grabs Loki’s wrist and brings it up to his face for closer inspection. “I don't see anything.”

“Well, you do only have one eye,” Loki quips, yanking his hand back and walking past Thor to their bedroom.

It's not the wittiest remark Loki can do, and Thor counts it a stroke of luck that Loki chose not to decimate him with words this time. Still, he can't shrug off the feeling that something is amiss. Maybe it's the way Loki didn't quite meet his eye.

He writes it off as the day having been a heavy one for them both, and follows Loki to bed.

It's a comfort of immeasurable significance that in the middle of this upheaval in their lives, Thor has his brother by his side. To be able to sling his arm over Loki and pull him close at night; to listen to his steady breaths, and, in the morning, wake up with either Loki tucked tight against him, or curled on the far side of the bed with only one corner of their shared blanket, grumbling sleepily about 'some people's inability to regulate their inner furnace'. Thor never mentions that it would probably help if Loki stopped wearing his long-sleeved nightshirts to bed – he knows Loki would only huff and somehow manage to make it sound like Thor was an idiot for even suggesting something so ridiculous – and besides, Loki’s sleepy, toothless grousing is both familiar and adorable in its own right.

It's all developing into a habit between them, and Thor can only quietly revel in the fact that he and Loki _have_ a shared routine again, one that does not involve pain and betrayal. The little incident with the ink is quickly forgotten.

It only surfaces again a few days later, during a bath that they share together – an occurrence which has become regrettably rare since their first days on the ship.

“Brother,” Thor says and pries the washcloth out of Loki's hands, frowning slightly at reddening splotches on his shoulder and brushing his fingers over them. “Are you sure you aren't overdoing it a little? You used to mind your skin more in the past.”

He adds the last bit as an afterthought, in an unexpected wave of melancholy. _In the past _– in the time, when there was nothing between him and Loki but the strong bond of brotherhood and love with no complications of the later times, before they had begun drifting apart. He remembers the long, shared baths and warm evenings, the caress of a light breeze through the open windows, the gentle slide of soapy hands on soft skin and wet hair, the comfortable heat of a wet mouth against another. Loki's skin always felt so tender and smooth beneath Thor's lips and the scratch of his beard – and Loki would often swat him away for the latter, but he would be playful about it, laughing -

But now, Loki steps out of the tub and wraps himself in a large towel, his back to Thor.

“We’ve all changed since then, haven't we.”

Thor furrows his brows, not understanding what he said wrong. Perhaps he shouldn't have ruined their pleasant bath, scarce as these private moments have become between them, by reminiscing the past they no longer have.

He follows Loki to bed and kisses him breathless as an apology.

He doesn't quite forget the incident, this time, but the ever-emerging new challenges on the ship occupy much of his thoughts, and it settles in the back of his mind as something to bring up with Loki later, when a suitable moment presents itself – with all the other things that they haven't yet talked about.

But finding a suitable moment for a lengthy heart-to-heart proves difficult. Loki is busy with his new responsibilities as well: he sits with Thor in their freshly formed weekly council meetings, and has taken charge of any and all running problems that Thor has no time for – and for which Loki's quick and resourceful mind works much better than Thor's perhaps too straightforward way of thinking. A little surprisingly, Loki has taken to solving the disputes and quarrels between their people, even though many were, initially, wary of bringing their issues to him. But it has turned out that whipping up creative solutions to petty but no less risky quarrels among the remaining Asgardians is a great way of employing Loki’s sharp mind. Thor can only watch in awe as Loki wields his wit to settle both fresh and resurfacing ancient feuds even in cases where Thor would have only torn at his shorn hair in frustration.

The daily life on their ship is settling well into a working routine, but the effort to keep everything sorted has its cost: Thor and Loki's alone time has diminished significantly. Often Thor returns to their room only to find Loki asleep already, or he himself is barely awake enough to mumble a greeting and throw an arm over Loki as his brother finally crawls beneath their covers after a long day.

That's probably the reason why it takes so long for Thor to catch on what has been going on with Loki, and to grasp the severity of the problem.

It only dawns on him by chance, when one evening he returns to their quarters considerably earlier than usual. The bathwater is already running, and Thor is quietly happy that at least he and Loki get to spend an evening together, at last. He is tempted to join his brother in his bath, but opts for giving him some space; Loki is, still, a somewhat reclusive creature, and needs his time alone to recuperate from the social strains of the day. So Thor picks up some star maps and flops on their bed; he might as well run through the course alternatives to Midgard as he waits.

But when Thor's eyes begin aching from squinting at the maps and the water is still running in the bathroom, he decides enough is enough. He will join Loki, and, if Loki has protests about it, he'll soothe them away by giving his brother one of those slow, drawn-out blow jobs that Loki so loves.

The door slides open near silently, the light swish of it drowned out by the sound of running water. Loki, unlike Thor expected, stands beneath the spray of water rather than lounges in the tub. His back is turned towards the door – he doesn't hear Thor enter. He doesn't turn.

Thor stops in his tracks.

Loki is scrubbing his arm with a washcloth, but it doesn’t look like he’s washing. It looks like Loki is trying to tear his skin off. His movements are harsh, almost frantic, as if he were covered in sticky grime – only, far as Thor can see, he’s as clean as a babe in a mother’s arms.

Unease coils in Thor’s belly. “Loki.”

Loki jumps and whips around. For a little moment he looks caught, like a rabbit cornered by a hound; his eyes are wide, startled and almost… panicked? It’s quick – gone in a blink, and Loki quickly collects himself, his expression smoothing, like a blank mask falling over it. Like the fear never was there at all. He clutches the washcloth in his fist like his life depended on it.

The skin on his belly and arms is scrubbed so red it looks a few brushes from bleeding.

“Loki,” Thor repeats, now properly afraid. He steps further into the bathroom.

Loki recoils from him.

Thor freezes.

Loki's posture relaxes a little, and he seems to regain his composure somewhat. “Thor,” he parrots, and crosses his arms over his chest. The apple of his throat bobs – a nervous habit Loki either isn't aware of, or simply can't rid himself of. “What are you doing here?”

Slowly, Thor moves to turn off the spray of water, uncaring of getting his clothes wet in the process. Loki stands rooted to the spot, his fingers whitening around the cloth, eyes following Thor’s every movement. Thor reaches for his hand, wary of bringing back the naked fear he saw on his brother's face but moments earlier. Loki doesn't resist when Thor pulls his hand into his own, but tenses noticeably when Thor gingerly runs his fingers over the abused skin of Loki's forearms. The skin is not truly rubbed raw, but it's glaringly red and terribly sore-looking. Thor's lips press together as he beholds it.

“I think the question is what _you_ are doing here,” he says with a shake of his head.

“I think it's rather obvious,” Loki responds mockingly and withdraws his hand from Thor's hold, bringing it to his chest.

“You've been doing this a lot, lately,” Thor says slowly, comprehension finally dawning on him. The little quirks, the little oddities that he thought were simply a new habit, unknown to Thor due to their long separation, they have all been this. Whatever _this_ is. “Washing all the time. Scrubbing your skin until it almost bleeds. Is this –” He swallows, shivers with the cold of the wet clothes seeping into his skin. “– is this why you've been sleeping in long sleeves all this time?”

Loki's face tightens, but he keeps his voice light and pert. “Well, Thor, I can't believe I have to lecture you about the importance of personal hygiene in such closed quarters, but –”

“Brother,” Thor interrupts him gently, resting his hand on Loki's neck and caressing his jawline with his thumb. “Please. What is this about?”

Loki bears his gaze for a moment, but suddenly his face crumples and he pulls his own arms around himself, turning his eyes away, hiding from Thor. He clutches his washcloth like a lifeline.

When he finally speaks, his voice is but a whisper.

“I can't get rid of it.”

Cold seeps into the pit of Thor's belly. “Of what?”

Loki only shakes his head mutely. Fully alarmed, Thor takes his hand again, gently but insistingly prying the cloth from it. “Loki, of _what_?”

Loki meets Thor's gaze then with a helplessness that makes Thor's heart clench. He can't remember the last time Loki looked at him with such open vulnerability, so lost… or, no, he can: on that cliff on Midgard, where he had first talked to Loki after Loki's fall into the void. Thor had been too wound up in his own anger and frustration to recognise the plea in Loki's eyes then, but he does recognise it now.

Loki drops his eyes on his hand, the one in Thor's gentle grip. Thor follows his gaze, not understanding, but then he sees how the pink on Loki’s fingertips withdraws, giving way to an unfamiliar shade of blue. Just for a moment, but it's enough.

“It's always there,” Loki says, and there’s desperation creeping into his voice. “Even when I don't see it. Even when no one sees it. It's always lurking beneath my skin, no matter how I-- how I scrub at it, at this-- It's always there, this, this _taint_...!”

Icy hands close around Thor’s heart and squeeze, freezing his blood and the air in his lungs. He tries to find his voice, but only manages to gasp uselessly. But then Loki begins shaking, and pure instinct takes over Thor's body. He pulls his brother into a hard embrace and presses his cheek against the side of Loki's head, petting the wet mess of hair in slow, long strokes.

“Oh, Loki.” He kisses Loki's temple, squeezes his eye shut when tears begin burning behind his eyelid. “Oh, brother. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

He doesn't know what else to say. What else  _can_ he say? His little brother has been carrying this burden alone for years, and Thor hasn't known. Worse: it never even occurred to him. With everything that happened in quick succession after Mother finally told him of Loki's true parentage, Thor never truly stopped to consider it, what it truly might mean to Loki. The battle on Midgard, Loki's imprisonment, their Mother's death, followed by Loki's own presumed death and the turmoil of Thor's own feelings… And when they reunited on Asgard, and then on Sakaar again, things were moving fast, and Loki looked so… normal, so himself, that Thor didn't think that the wound would still be festering beneath the surface. I'm here, Loki said, and called Thor brother, and it had been enough for him.

They have travelled for weeks now, and not once has Thor stopped to raise a question. He was so quick to write off every hint of Loki's compulsive scrubbing as simply a new quirk he picked up somewhere along the way. There never seemed to be a suitable moment for asking about it. There has always been something to prevent Thor from doing it.

There should have been nothing. Because nothing is dearer to Thor than his little brother. Nothing, nothing should have been put above Loki on Thor's list of priorities.

“I'm sorry,” he says again, helplessly. He cups Loki's face in his palms and looks Loki in the eyes. “I'm sorry I left you alone with this.”

Loki shakes his head minutely, eyes constantly slipping away from Thor's. He pushes at Thor's chest, but it feels half-hearted at most. “Stop. Don't look at me.”

He might as well have stabbed Thor. He pulls Loki close again. “Hush, love. Shh. Come here.”

He tosses the washcloth aside and reaches for a towel. Loki takes it as his cue to put some distance between himself and Thor.

“I do not need coddling,” he hisses, but lets Thor wrap him up in the large, soft towel nonetheless.

“I know,” Thor murmurs, patting him dry all over like one would a child. “But you need love and care. And, besides, I want to,” he quickly adds before Loki can utter another objection.

All wrapped up from head to almost toe, his brother looks adorable and small, somehow. Young – and Thor is reminded once again of how young his brother truly is – was, when this all started. Looking at him now has Thor’s heart aching; his baby brother had to deal with the shocking revelation about his past all alone, and though he often keeps a waterproof mask over his hurts, a face of experience, only few short years have passed since that fateful day when Loki learnt of his heritage and spiralled into the void. He is still a baby, Thor’s baby brother, and it’s high time Thor showers him with all the care and love and safety and support that he should have provided years ago.

He shepherds Loki into their bedroom and sits him down on the bed. Loki shrinks into himself a little when Thor unwraps him from the towel, but Thor doesn’t show that he noticed. Ignoring the discomfort of his own wet clothes, he only shifts to rummage in one of the nightstands for some body lotion he has seen Loki use before.

Loki scowls at him, but does nothing to stop Thor. “That’s completely unnecessary.”

“It’s not. You’ve rubbed yourself almost raw.”

“It heals quickly.”

Thor fixes Loki with a long look. “Not the point, Loki.”

He squeezes an abundant amount of the lotion on his palm and proceeds to gently apply it to Loki’s shoulders, then down to his chest, and his arms one at a time. Loki sits through it quietly and squirms only a little when Thor rubs the lotion in careful circles into the tender skin of his belly. He doesn’t put up a fight even when Thor quickly divests himself of his unpleasantly clinging clothes and climbs on the bed to arrange Loki belly-down on the mattress. He diligently coats the entirety of Loki’s back, his buttocks, and moves down to his thighs and calves and soles of the feet.

Loki doesn't speak a word through the whole treatment, and Thor loses himself in his pleasant task. Everything else seems to slowly melt away, everything but the feel of Loki's slowly relaxing shape beneath Thor's careful palms, the subtle scent of the lotion, and Loki's sighs when the rubbing the lotion in morphs into a proper, thorough massage. The quiet peace of their cabin enfolds Thor entirely, pushing out everything else, and distantly, and a little surprisingly, Thor realises that he needs this, too. He needs this closeness, this sense of proximity with his brother in both body and soul. The body he and Loki have seen to often enough, but as for the soul…

Thor draws his hands from Loki's back a little reluctantly and tucks his brother in. He quickly follows suit, slipping beneath their shared blanket, and settles on his side so that he and Loki are lying face to face. Loki regards him with his beautiful, unreadable green eyes, and Thor's hand reaches to caress his cheek on its own accord. How much he loves his brother – but how poorly he has shown it. His heart is full, but his tongue feels like lead in his mouth. He hasn't a clue of what to say.

“Stop thinking, brother,” Loki murmurs. The corner of his mouth twitches into a ghost of a smile. “It never was your strong suit anyway.”

Thor mutely shakes his head, thumb still petting Loki’s cheek. The past few years have left their subtle marks on Loki, since he and Thor last were happy and together on Asgard; they appear as subtle lines on his face where none were before; in Loki’s untamed, outgrown curls; in the way he looks less carefully put together. He looks better this way – less restricted, wilder, freer. More mature, too, though in moments like these, when Loki allows himself to be vulnerable with Thor, his youth still shines through. It’s terrifying how easily he, Thor, has fallen too for the subtle act Loki has been putting up to everyone else.

It shames him.

“Thor,” Loki says firmly, insistently, and mirrors Thor’s gesture; cool fingers rake gently through Thor’s beard. His eyes are soft in the dim light of their cabin, intent, and not for the first time Thor wonders how time reflects from his own face – what Loki reads from it, when he looks at Thor like that in the quiet, lulling humming of their ship.

“Thor, stop. I can practically hear what you are thinking.” Loki’s touch is tender, but his brows are drawing into a frown. “This isn’t your fault. I kept it hidden. I_ took care _to keep you from finding out. Don’t underestimate me in that. This isn’t your fault.”

Thor covers Loki’s hand with his palm. He is desperate to speak, but, as always, his frustrating tongue betrays him at a crucial moment, unable to form the words Thor wants Loki to hear. How can his heart be so full, and yet his tongue so useless, his mind so dull? That’s how it has always been between he and Loki – Thor never manages to say the right words, not when it matters. It’s partly what has caused great many of their problems in past and present both, isn’t it?

Unable to withstand Loki’s quiet gaze, he closes his eye. “I’m sorry.” Funny, how it seems the only word he’s capable of uttering tonight, when before he barely ever voiced it at all. “For-- for not being there when you needed me. For not seeing that you needed me.”

Loki’s hand stills on Thor’s cheek. For a moment, there is nothing but Loki’s soft breaths on Thor’s face. When Thor opens his eye, Loki’s are still on him, glistening in darkness.

“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he says, and sounds so sad that Thor’s heart breaks all over again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he rasps, tears blurring his vision. _Why didn’t you tell me, when I was too blind to see it __for__ myself?_

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Loki answers softly.

“Neither should it be yours, not alone,” Thor counters vehemently. “It shouldn’t be a burden at all.”

Loki snorts derisively and withdraws his hand, leaving it to rest on a pillow between them.

Thor covers it with his own, unable to not touch his brother in some way. “You’ve never shown yourself to me,” he murmurs and kisses the fingertips that he, for the first time, so recently saw turn blue. And the thought is striking: in all the millennium they have spent together, despite being brothers and sharing a bond more intimate than many a lover ever have a chance to experience, Thor has not seen Loki in the form he was born into the world.

The laugh Loki utters is disbelieving and sudden, as if Thor punched it from him. “You? When could you have? While we were fighting over the Tesseract? Or busy committing treason and escaping Asgard? Or fighting our previously unknown sister? We haven’t exactly had the time for letting the family skeletons out of their closets. Well – technically our dear sister did that quite literally, but she made sure to keep our attention on herself at the time.”

Thor doesn’t mention that they have had already weeks together on the Statesman. Instead, he cradles Loki’s hand and pulls it to his chest. “I know.”

“Only… only Odin has seen me,” Loki continues then, his voice withering into a whisper. His eyes fix on his own fingers, held by Thor. “And Heimdall. Only them.”

A black spike of something too close to jealousy pierces Thor’s lungs. Heimdall has never brought it up with Thor. Not that the  W atcher ever shares everything he sees, but suddenly Thor feels oddly bitter that Heimdall knew of Loki – that he  _saw _ Loki  _–_ and never said a word of it to Thor, who is Loki’s  _brother_ .

But then, it’s clear that Loki doesn’t wish to be seen, not in this. And yet--

“Do you think you could show me?”

Loki’s eyes widen. “_What_?”

Thor brings Loki’s hand to his lips. “Your Jotun self. Do you think you could show it to me, one day?”

Loki yanks at his hand to free it from Thor’s hold, but Thor keeps it. Loki gives up and his hand goes limp in Thor’s.

“You are cruel to ask that of me.”

Perhaps Thor is. He is assuming too much, trying again to run before learning to walk first. Loki has spent years hiding his true form from Thor; he won’t let Thor see it just like that.

Thor opens his mouth to apologise, but Loki speaks before he can get the words out.

“I have not even seen myself.”

The quiet admission shocks Thor into silence. Loki isn’t looking at him – his gaze is fixed where Thor is playing with his fingers.

“Not fully, at least. I know the monster is there. I feel it, constantly. I don’t need to see it, too.”

Thor’s heart clenches painfully. He can barely speak past the lump in his throat. “Loki.  _Brother_ . You know you are no monster. You know the Jotun aren’t monsters. Father was wrong. I even more so, but I have learnt. Jotuns are people like any other. You know this. Surely you know this.”

Loki closes his eyes. “Do I?”

Thor opens his mouth for more assurances, but thinks better of it. Loki has heard all those things already, but for now, they are nothing but empty words to him. Thor repeating them over and over again won’t change anything.

This isn’t about knowing. This isn’t about facts.  This is about  _Loki_ .

Thor can’t ever know what it truly is like for Loki, what it means to him. All he can do is try to make it right, as far as is in his power, and to help Loki understand that it is all right. That he doesn’t have to be ashamed, or afraid of his heritage. That he can be Jotun or Aesir or something in between and still remain Thor’s brother either way. That he still is Loki. That he will always remain Loki, no matter what.

And before Loki is comfortable with sharing his true skin with Thor, he has to first feel comfortable sharing it with himself. But how to achieve that? If Loki is afraid of seeing his natural form to the extent that he compulsively scrubs his skin to rid himself of it, how can –?

Hmm _._

“Loki. What if you tried to spend the night in your Jotun form? It’s dark. I won’t be able to see it. _You _won’t even see it.” Perhaps, if Loki gets used to being in his Jotun form, he begins to believe that it’s no more monstrous than any other – that it doesn’t change who he _is_. Like that he might grow ready to let himself see himself fully, too. Let them both see, even. But this is for Loki, not Thor, and he will wait until Loki decides to show him. If Loki decides to show him. Thor hopes he will.

“Stay in your Jotun shape,” he continues when Loki makes a sound of distress. “Little by little. Like this, at night. You won’t have to see – only feel.”

He pulls Loki’s pliant body into his embrace and kisses the tip of Loki’s cold nose. “I love you,” he murmurs softly. “I always have. And I always will, no matter what. You deserve it. And you deserve to be loved by yourself, too.”

He doesn’t tell Loki to stop scrubbing himself like that. It won’t help anything and might just upset Loki. But he can try and, from his part, make Loki  _feel_ that he doesn’t have to scrub himself from his ‘taint’. To see that he isn’t tainted at all.

Loki is quiet for a long time. Thor only hears his restless breathing, feels the humidity of the warm puffs of air on his face.

Finally, Loki speaks. “Promise me you won’t look.”

Thor’s heart jolts. “I promise.”

“And it must be fully dark. Pitch black.”

Thor’s heart pangs in disappointment that his brother doesn’t trust his word to not look, but he understands that what Loki is about to agree to does not come easy to him. “Of course.”

Loki’s breathing quickens. His hands curl into fists on Thor’s bare chest. With  a palm at Loki’s neck, Thor can feel his frantic heartbeat, and he aches with how much he wants to heal this deep hurt his brother has been carrying for so long. He swallows the rising frustration of his inability to do anything about it and resolves to simply  _be_ – be there for his baby brother, every step of the way.

Loki flicks his wrist, and the already dim room falls into complete darkness. They lie in each other’s arms, Thor listening to Loki’s almost panicked breaths and realising that even his own belly feels liquid with anxiousness.

Then Loki mumbles something so quietly that Thor has to ask him to repeat.

“What if I freeze you?” Loki whispers, and sounds to be on the verge of tears. “I don’t know if-- on Jotunheim-- What if that form was not, was not made for holding?”

What if  _I _ was  not made for holding, is what Thor hears. Fiercely he kisses Loki’s forehead. “You were. You are. You always were made for love and for touch, brother. We were made for it together. Don’t be afraid. You won’t hurt me.”

In truth, Thor can’t know for sure. He knows that Jotuns can freeze skin in battle, but he doubts it’s a passive trait. During that unfortunate, foolish trip he initiated into Jotunheim, he’s fairly sure his bare skin grazed many a Jotun in the heat of the battle and suffered nothing for it. It’s unlikely Loki will freeze him, unless he lashes out by accident – or on purpose. But even with that risk, Thor will be damned if he let go of his brother now.

Loki takes several steadying breaths. Thor strokes his hair through them, and, finally, Loki whispers, “Okay.”

Thor waits, keeping on petting Loki and by that trying to mask his own nerves.

Then he feels it: gentle coolness under his palm that’s resting on Loki’s neck, and against his chest, where Loki’s hand is trembling against his heart.

“Is it-- does it-- hurt?” Loki chokes out, and Thor feels with his entire body and soul the effort it’s taking Loki to hold himself together.

“No, baby,” he murmurs, and in a flash of excitement realises that it’s true – that Loki has shifted into his Jotun skin, and it doesn’t harm him. Thor pulls the shaking Loki tighter against himself, closer, closer still so that Loki will feel Thor’s love in every fibre of his Jotun being. He throws his thigh over Loki’s legs and almost laughs, overtaken by that particular brand of giddiness that comes with released tension. “It doesn’t hurt at all. It feels a little cool, but not even cold, not really.” He tightens his arms. “You feel lovely, brother.”

Loki hides his face in Thor’s neck, and the tension that has been mounting in his chest releases in a sob so devastating that it becomes instantly clear how long and how hard Loki has been keeping it inside himself, never letting it out, never sharing it. He latches himself onto Thor, throwing his arms around Thor as much as their tight-knit position allows him to, buries his face in Thor’s neck, and cries.

Thor hushes Loki softly, hums to him, rocks him in his arms, and, being denied seeing, lets himself feel instead.

The truth is, there doesn’t seem to be much difference to feel. The press of Loki’s body against his is cooler, but Loki never has been particularly hot-blooded in his Aesir form, either. Even now, his shape is locked with Thor’s in a way so familiar that it hurts – the shape of Thor’s heart, so dear and cherished, and finally in its place.

“Loki,” he murmurs, and kisses Loki’s hair. His own eye begins to water. “Brother. Beloved.”

He kisses Loki’s hair again and again, and shifts so he can kiss Loki’s temple, too. When he kisses Loki’s forehead, he feels strange ridges – a pattern – beneath his lips. He is tempted to explore it further, but withholds; Loki’s body is Loki’s to discover, first. Thor won’t steal it from him, not before Loki gives him permission. So he continues his kisses down to Loki’s nose, to his wet cheeks. Jotun tears, he discovers, taste exactly as salty as the Aesir ones.

When his lips are inevitably drawn to Loki’s, he finds them already parted and seeking.

Their kiss is desperate, too full of emotion for finesse. Thor tastes salt when he licks into Loki’s mouth, salt and something else, something fresh and intriguing, like freshly melted snow. He groans into Loki’s mouth, and Loki whimpers, and invites him deeper.

Instinctively, Thor rolls on top of him, pressing Loki into their soft pillows with his bulk.

Loki makes a desperate little sound, and Thor’s blood flares with the need to protect and to care for his brother, to make him feel every bit of his love. He brackets Loki’s head between his forearms and kisses him deep, letting Loki sense his weight but keeping the worst of it off him. He already knows from experience that at his most vulnerable Loki needs to feel safe and contained, and he strives to give it to his little brother now, too.

“Thor,” Loki lets out, urgent and needy and desperate. His cool hands roam Thor’s back, trying to pull Thor down more fully against him. His fingers feel colder now against Thor’s flushed skin, and the contrast sends shivers through Thor’s entire body. Helpless to resist, he obliges, and presses his groin against Loki’s, grinding and giving a breathy groan when Loki mirrors the gesture.

Sex is not what Thor intended for this to lead to, but the slip from simple comfort to arousal happened naturally. Now, with his brother’s familiar shape underneath him, radiating this new, breath-taking contrast of hot and cold, all Thor can do is cave and answer Loki’s wordless call.

“Loki, baby,” he mouths against Loki’s cheek, rolling his hips in time with Loki’s, growing harder by the moment.

Loki only whines in response, letting his thighs fall wider open and bucking against Thor.

There’s no need for further invitations. They have been each other’s lovers in addition to brothers long enough that in this, at least, they understand each other perfectly without the words.

Here, nothing seems to have changed; Loki is as hot inside as his Jotun self as he is in his Aesir form. Welcoming, inviting. He’s so familiar that Thor aches, and he drinks all Loki’s whimpers directly from his lips as he opens his brother with loving urgency, and enters him with care.

“Beloved,” he repeats, and does it again, and again, as they rock together in perfect rhythm.

“Brother,” he moans into Loki’s mouth, swallowing his sobs, brushing his sweaty curls from the cool, ridged forehead. Even with his eye closed and in darkness, Thor feels as though he can see Loki anyway, his features committed to his memory so thoroughly – Thor’s perfect little brother, the other half of his soul, his everything--

“I love you,” Loki whispers against his lips, and the words are what send Thor soaring and push him tumbling over the edge with a long groan against Loki’s temple. He collapses over his brother, and the stickiness between their bellies tells him that Loki followed him right after.

Everything blurs into pleasant haziness for a moment, and Thor lets himself relax on Loki, catching his breath and inhaling his brother’s scent. Loki, too, is still panting against Thor’s cheek, and Thor tilts his head for a wet, sloppy kiss. Loki gives into it readily, cool hands curling over Thor’s biceps.

“Stay,” he pleads when Thor makes to pull out. He cradles Thor’s face in his palms and presses his forehead to Thor’s. “Please stay.”

Something fierce and tender blooms in Thor’s chest. “Always. Always, my love.”

He coaxes Loki’s lips into another long kiss, savouring the feel, the taste, basking in the pleasant tingles of the afterglow and his brother’s trust, and pure, vibrant pride.

He shifts to lie more comfortably for sleep, still half atop Loki to keep them joined for as long as his brother needs. He kisses his cheek.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, brother.”

Beneath his touch, Loki’s skin begins to warm to it’s more familiar temperature. There is no movement, no palpable shifting, nothing – but when Thor brushes his lips along Loki’s temple and forehead, he knows his brother has changed back.

“Is everything well?”

There is a thoughtful silence, and Thor’s heart begins picking up pace in the fear that he has overstepped, that they went too far in the heat of the moment and now Loki regrets it, or feels violated, or –

But then Loki lets out a little sigh and says, “Yes.”

Thor releases the breath he was well aware of holding. He can’t help kissing Loki’s cheek again. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Loki hesitates. “I will need time.”

“Of course. You have all the time you need.” Thor pecks Loki’s temple. “This isn’t for me, brother. This is for you, and you have a lifetime ahead.”

Loki snuggles tighter into him and says nothing. His breaths begin to slow, and Thor, throwing his arm over Loki for good measure, begins to drift off as well.

He is floating at the edge of consciousness when he more feels than hears Loki’s sleepy, “Thank you.”

Thor squeezes him slightly, and lets himself drift off. He and Loki made unexpected, but important leaps today. He knows that it’s only the beginning of a long road, that there is much more work to be done, but here, now, it is enough.

The sun will always rise again.

*

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in summer and it has been going through a very slow editing round since then. It's not amazing, but I've been having troubles with writing lately, so here's to hoping that posting something will help.
> 
> I've made a little drawing unrelated to this fic, but since it sort of fits the theme, you can find it [here on my twitter](https://twitter.com/salakavala7/status/1174641940811460608).
> 
> Thank you for reading! :3


End file.
